The Unlikeliest of Places
by Emiliya Wolfe
Summary: When Alice Fawley is stood up for her very first Hogsmeade date and visit, she accidentally lets loose a burst of accidental magic. Unfortunately for her, that accidental magic happens to take place in the clocktowers, sending her back 30 years. Back to 1938.


**Thanks to Em, Jenny and Bell for beta-ing.**

* * *

 _1966_ — _October_

'What do you mean, we were supposed to go to Hogsmeade together?' Henry asked, his lip curling into a sneer.

Alice didn't understand how a boy who had been so sweet two days ago could be so cruel now. Was it because she had confronted him in front of his friends? Did he not want to lose face?

She looked to Benjamin, the boy who had passed her Henry's note asking her to Hogsmeade just yesterday. He shrugged, falling back into line with the other third year boys, smoothing his hair back self-consciously.

Well, Alice didn't need him to back her up. She had proof.

'Didn't you send me this?' she demanded, fishing the crumpled parchment out of her robes and thrusting it in Henry's face.

'What's this?' he asked, his grin fading.

 _This is it,_ Alice thought with relief. _It was just a misunderstanding; it was_ —

'Merlin's underpants, you _are_ pathetic.' Henry laughed derisively. Alice frowned, her mouth falling open. 'Did you write this? Merlin, are you really that _desperate_?'

'What?' The word fell out of her mouth like a limp fish out of water.

'Girls are pathetic.' Henry sneered, and his cronies burst into laughter.

Hating herself for the tears pricking at her eyes, and refusing to give Henry the satisfaction of seeing her cry, Alice turned tail in a very un-Gryffindor fashion, fleeing back up the clocktower from which she had seen Henry return.

It was the first Hogsmeade visit of the year. She had been waiting for this moment for two months. And it had been ruined. By the time she reached the swinging pendulum, the first sob had broken free.

After that, there was no stopping the floodworks. She shut her eyes so tightly she could feel her lashes on her cheeks, but the tears slipped out through the cracks, and she had to hold her head up high to stop the snot from running down to her lip.

She wished she had a tissue. She wished she hadn't told her friends about her stupid date, wished her friends had never got her so excited that she had spent the night dreaming of how they would hold hands in the cobbled streets, sharing a kiss in the chocolate aisle of Honeydukes. Most of all, she wished she could go back and never believe him in the first place.

With a cry of frustration and humiliation, she kicked at one of the spinning gears. Her foot hurt, but the gear kept turning as usual.

'I hate you!' she screamed at the clockwork, kicking it harder.

It stopped turning.

Taken aback, Alice stumbled back...only to take one step too far.

With one last scream, she fell backwards down the clock face. She had no time to think as she plummeted to certain death five flights down, closing her eyes against the impact.

But the impact never came.

 _This is taking longer than I thought_ , Alice thought in surprise. She opened her eyes, watching the stairs rush upwards. At first, it was fascinating, and then she realised there were too many stairs, too many clock faces, too many hands moving in the wrong direction. The pendulum swung back and forth, drumming a rhythm that resonated in her chest. She swivelled to face the floor, to be brave in her final moments, and that was the moment she panicked.

There was no floor.

* * *

 _1937_ — _November_

Something knocked his elbow, pushing him into the wall and sending his books flying.

'Watch where you're going, Riddle.'

'Yeah, those are _library_ books, Riddle.'

'Don't get your filthy blood on Hogwarts' magical walls, Riddle.'

'Careful, you'll trip up over your own robes, Riddle.'

Tom braced for impact, and sure enough, he ended up sprawled on the floor alongside his books. Glaring at the floor, he wiped his bloody lip on his sleeve. His magic coiled inside him like a snake ready to spring, but he knew from experience that he didn't have the power…yet.

He scoffed in quiet disgust. After Dumbledore had come for him at the orphanage, he had dared to hope… It didn't matter what he'd hoped. Nothing mattered except for power, and those strong enough to wield it.

Suddenly, his books swept themselves into a tidy pile.

'Four on one? I can get behind those odds. _Tarantallegra_!'

Tom looked up just in time to see Ewan Nott's legs start to move uncontrollably, one unlucky kick catching Walburga Black right in the stomach, winding the older girl. He blinked in amazement at the round-faced girl with her wand stretched out, her jaw set determinedly.

' _Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus!_ ' she shouted, pointing at Crabbe and Brown, the last two culprits.

Their wands were out of their hands almost as soon as they emerged from their pockets, leaving the two third years slack-jawed as they tried to work out what had just happened. The girl smiled in satisfaction, and only then did Tom notice her red and gold tie. What business did a Gryffindor have meddling in Slytherin matters? He'd only been at Hogwarts for three months, but he'd already picked up on the tension.

He eyed her as she gathered his books in her arms, waiting for her to run off with them, or worse, ask him if he was all right.

'Well?' she demanded. 'Are you going to lie there all day?'

He supposed not.

'Do you need any help getting to class? I got lost all the time when I was a first year.'

Tom felt the hairs raise on the back of his neck. His eyes narrowed as he took his books.

'Thank you, but I will be fine,' he replied coolly, trying to regain his dignity. 'I had the whole place memorised after my third day.'

She raised her eyebrows but didn't accuse him of lying.

'Well, if you're sure.' She shrugged. 'I'll let you get on with it then.'

Tom opened his mouth to retort, then glanced at the recovering Slytherins.

'Thank you,' he said instead, and this time, the gratitude was more sincere. He adopted his most flattering tone. 'If you don't mind me asking, where did you learn to do that?'

The girl's lips quirked into a smile. 'I have an affinity for DADA,' she explained. 'My friends think it's because I'm reckless. I prefer to say that I'm fearless. Sounds better.'

Fearless.

Tom wished he could say the same.

* * *

 _1937_ — _December_

Tom was in the library when he next met her.

It was the first day of the Christmas half-term, and he was determined to make the most of the ensuing privacy. His father had to be in the school records. He just had to be. Then he'd prove Black and her cronies wrong.

But when he found the aisle, _she_ was already there, a pile of books stacked a mile high on the table before her.

No matter. She was a Gryffindor; she wouldn't care about his research. Out of habit, his eyes flickered across the spines of her books.

 _Wait a minute; that's what I need!_

Angry that his research was put on hold, but unable to see how he would extract the book without her knowledge, he resigned himself to completing his homework. Tomorrow, he would make sure he was up first.

The next day, Tom woke early. He had made sure to sleep in the Owlery—warmer than the Astronomy Tower, the room would still have him wake at the crack of dawn. He had even found a writing niche spelled to keep the owls away. He raced to the library as quickly as his pride would allow him…then stopped.

There she was.

It was as if she had never left; she was in the same place, with the same books, only this time, the pile was on her other side. As he watched, her head drooped, and then jerked back up.

Tom had to admit, he was curious.

'Don't just stand there,' the girl said, yawning as she turned towards him. 'I'm not going to bite.'

Tom huffed disparagingly.

'Do you mind if I borrow that book?' he asked, nodding towards the pile.

'Sure,' she said, taking it off the stack and sliding it across the table. 'If you agree to put it back later.'

'All right.'

And so it went all week. Tom found no hint of Riddle anywhere, not in the '20s, and not in the whole 20th century. He started looking through family trees, through European visitors, but his namesake was nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, the girl seemed just as frustrated. Once, she ripped out a page in anger, sheepishly casting a _Reparo_ when she saw him watching.

'What are you looking for?' he asked.

She stared at him. He felt a blush rising to his cheeks. The words had just slipped out. Normally, he was good at ferreting out other people's secrets, but she disconcerted him.

'Maybe I can help,' he added, noticing the desperation creep into her brown eyes.

'I sincerely doubt…' She trailed off as her face brightened. 'Actually, if you find exact name repetitions in different eras, that would be perfect, thanks! And maybe…' She hesitated, biting at her bottom lip. 'Maybe I could help you in return?'

Tom opened his mouth, about to sneer. Then he realised that he could use this girl to look for references to his mother's father. He doubted she'd find him, but it couldn't hurt to double check. And she had been acting shiftily enough that he suspected something illegal.

'Look for any reference to a student named Marvolo,' he commanded. At her raised eyebrow, he softened his tone. 'I'm Tom, by the way. Tom Riddle.'

'Alice Fawley.'

She held out her hand.

 _One of the Sacred Twenty-Eight_ , he thought. _Someone worthy of association._

He shook it.

* * *

 _1938_ — _January_

Tom watched as she swooped and dove and twirled and turned. She was a red and gold blur in the sky, sending Bludgers left and right. No one flew like that unless they were a Seeker.

All around him, Slytherins booed and jeered, angry that their Keeper had been sidelined early on. Privately, Tom allowed himself a smile. There was something freeing in watching someone like that in action, someone so reckless it made you feel as though you could do anything in the world.

He glanced down at the book in his hands. _Founding Families: The Truth Behind the Famous Four's Lineage._ He had read it back to back three times so far, but the truth still had to sink in. He had always known he was special, that he was _different_ , even for a wizard. But, he had to confess, even he had begun to doubt his lineage when Alice had found Marvolo Gaunt in the student records. It hadn't been a great leap from there to find Merope: insipid, uninspiring, _weak_.

'Still carrying around that mouldy old tome?'

Tom blinked. The stadium had emptied faster than he'd anticipated—the Slytherin Seeker had caught the Snitch only minutes earlier. He looked up into Alice's grinning face, her chin leaning on her broom, the sheen of sweat still visible on her forehead.

'Salazar Slytherin,' Tom breathed. 'Can you imagine?'

'Yes, welcome to the world of wizards with brooms stuck up their arses and witches thinking a name gives you power,' Alice drawled, flopping down onto the seat next to him. 'Don't go boring on me, Tom.'

'Names _do_ give you power,' Tom rejoined, ignoring the dirt flecked onto his robes. After all, Nott's family had so kindly put in an order for brand new ones, tripping over in their haste to make reparations for the impoliteness of their idiot child. 'I have half of Slytherin begging at my feet.'

'And actions give you more,' Alice replied. 'Shouldn't you be known for your brilliance, rather than your relation to someone who's been dead for centuries?'

'Easy for you to say; the Fawley family is swimming in Galleons and connections,' he pointed out, keeping the envy from his voice with difficulty.

'But I can't even set foot in my old house,' she murmured, tears springing to her eyes.

'No luck with the latest on time-travel?' he asked, uncomfortable with her emotional tone.

'It's as Dippet said,' she replied, resting her chin back on her broom. 'People have appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, claiming to time-travel. Not one has gone back. Not one has been born in the year they were supposed to. It's as if their thread was wrenched out of time and tied like a knot wherever there was space. I'm never going to see my family again. My parents probably won't even get married. They'll never know I'm missing.'

Tom sensed that something had to be said.

'Family is overrated, anyway,' he offered with a smile. 'You can never rely on other people. The sooner we learn that, the better.'

Instead of laughing, Alice simply gave a sad smile of her own, shaking her head. 'You can rely on me, Tom,' she said. 'When are you going to learn that?'

'You'll forget that when it's convenient,' he replied, rolling his eyes. He knew she would never understand. You had to see the worst of humanity to see the best they could offer. And that wasn't much.

'Okay, let's make a deal,' Alice said, shuffling round to face him as she wiped her face. He tactfully chose not to mention that it had just left clean streaks in the dust on her cheeks. 'How about I wait to go to Hogsmeade until you're of age to go? Dippet just signed my form. That way, you'll see how friendship can survive a little _inconvenience_.'

Tom thought about Alice waiting a year for him to go to Hogsmeade. Then he thought about the orphanage, and how the matron would never sign a permission slip for him, not in the six years he had left at Hogwarts.

He held out his hand.

'Deal.'

* * *

 _1940_ — _December_

Tom woke with a shudder, drenched in cold sweat and gasping for air. The sirens still sounded in his head, loud and blaring as they had been two weeks earlier. The headmaster had insisted he return to the orphanage for Christmas to collect his personal effects for the foreseeable future, despite the fact that Tom didn't have any personal effects. The memory still burned in his mind.

Closing his eyes in shame and fear, he grasped at his wand and dressing gown before slipping out into the musty dungeon air. After what felt like a lifetime of corridors, his feet veered towards the Entrance Hall. He slipped outside after Confunding the caretaker. He couldn't breathe; the air was too stifling inside. He sat on the front steps and looked up at the sky, imagining it filled with fire and ash. His vision blurred.

'Tom? What are you doing outside so late? It's past midnight!'

Tom closed his eyes. Of course it would be Alice who found him. It was always Alice. He tried to summon the strength for his mask.

'I could ask you the same, Miss Fawley,' he replied, but even he could tell the energy wasn't in his voice. He blinked, hoping the cold air would dry his face before she drew too close.

' _I_ happen to be a Prefect.' Alice tossed him her badge. She threw herself down next to him with athletic grace, her blonde curls bouncing on her shoulders. An object clattered by her side. 'And I fancied using that prerogative to go for a midnight fly. Tom?'

Her voice was filled with concern, and Tom turned his face away. After a moment, he couldn't help but ask. She was the only one who might understand.

'How does it feel? Knowing you left your world with no trace, nothing to remember you by? Just a memory of the girl who disappeared off the clocktower.'

'I… I was more concerned with missing my own memories than how my absence would affect the world,' Alice admitted, craning her head around to look at him. 'But I suppose that world doesn't exist anymore, does it?'

Tom's mouth hardened into a thin line at the response.

'If I died today, no one would remember me,' he said. 'Even you, if you thought of me, would only think of how it was a pity I died so young. "What talent!" people would say. "What a shame!" And soon enough, they'd be ash and dust, and I'd just be another name in the school records no one would recognise.'

'Well, I guess you'd better not die before you accomplish all the great things you're going on about, then, eh?' Alice laughed, nudging him in the side. Her smile fell when he stayed silent. 'Tom?'

'How can you be so…so carefree? You could have died from your accidental magic, and you do all those stunts on your broom. You even want to be an Auror, for Merlin's sake! Aren't you scared of dying?' Tom burst out, the words finally leaving him.

'If I'm going to die, I might as well teach Death what it means to live,' Alice replied so fiercely it took him aback, and he stared at the sudden flame in her honey-coloured eyes. Then she grinned, and the moment faded. 'Maybe he'll be so impressed he'll invite me to join the youngest brother.'

'The youngest brother?' Tom asked, scrunching up his face.

'You know, the one who defied Death in the fairytale?'

At his nonplussed expression, she laughed and drew her wand.

'I forgot, sorry. _Accio_ _Tales of Beedle the Bard_! It's a story about three brothers who defy death, but only the youngest slips through his grasp. Mum told me it was based on real wizards.' A small blue book landed in her outstretched hand. 'Here. Consider it an early birthday present.'

Tom took the book, his fingertips brushing the warmth of her hands. He paused, unwilling to lose the contact. Those staring eyes as he emerged from the shelter, the screaming and the coughing and the dying. Another statistic for the newspapers. He couldn't be that; he wouldn't be that. He would defy Death.

And Alice had just shown him how.

* * *

 **I'm toying with the idea of making this a full-blown MC once I finish my other ones, so I would really like your opinion on the matter!**

Prompts:

QL, CAPTAIN: Multiverse (changes in the past cause an entirely new timeline to be created). WC: 3,024

Hogwarts assignment 10: Hannukah Task #8: Write about someone finding comfort in something/someone.

Character Appreciation - Tom Riddle Jr. 30. [Era] Riddle

Disney Challenge - S4. Belle - Write about someone who wants more from life.

Cookie's Cooking Corner - 4. Snickers: Alt, write about two things that shouldn't go together, working.

Showtime - 16. Will I: (word) dignity

Amber's Attic - 4. Use a popular fanfic trope or cliche and write it with a twist. (5 point bonus) (Girl time-travels to Tom's era and makes friends, but it's Alice Longbottom)

Lyric Alley - 8. Don't let the bells end

Em's Emporium - 5. (time) midnight

Liza's Loves - 7. Write a friendship fic

Lo's Lowdown - 5. Keyleth: write about someone who argues for what is right.


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